


Starting

by RowboatCop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Daisy has been falling in love with Phil for as long as she's known him, F/M, Hospital bed, Kinda, angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 15:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6015265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson gets hurt, and Daisy realizes what's been starting between them since the day they met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts).



> Angsty hospital bed with feels for becketted.

9.

It starts with tears, with the way she can barely see him through her impotent sobs as he screams — _screams_ in agony at whatever the _thing_ inhabiting Ward’s corpse is doing to his brain.

_He’s going to die_ , she tells herself, hears it repeated like an alarm, a call to action. _He can’t die._

And he’s almost died before, but the thing is that she never had to watch it like this. She never had to watch it and to feel the weight of every memory — every smile, every touch, every day she’s spent with him — rushing through her head.

She’s never had to hear him scream, _watch him die_ , while remembering the way it feels when he takes her hand, when he hugs her, when he tells her she matters.

And it’s not like she’s ever thought she’d get to _keep him_ or something so foolish. She’ll lose him one day, and she knows that — she’s made peace with that because she’s not afraid of losing things anymore (she tells herself this defiantly, not exactly a lie because it _isn’t_ fear — it’s just acknowledgement of the inevitable).

But it has never occurred to her that before she loses him, there’s more she wants from him. Everything he’s given her, everything he’s done for her, and there’s still more that she selfishly wants.

 

2.

It starts with tears, with the pain of bearing her very soul to him and waiting for him to pass judgement.

She doesn’t care what his judgement is, she tells herself. She’s known him for, what, all of three weeks. He’s nothing to her, and if he kicks her off of his plane because this is who she is...well, it’s nothing she can’t handle.

And then he’s _nice_ . Nice like he’s going to help her. Nice like he’s not in the business of judging or punishing, and she’s crushed by what a _lie_ it is that she could have left.

It’s dangerous. She knows it’s dangerous because she never gets to keep things like this, people like him. She never gets to stay.

But she _wants_ it.

 

3.

It starts with his hand on her cheek, and she doesn’t know what to do with that.

He obviously wants to do _something_ but he has no idea what it’s supposed to be. And she doesn’t respond — she can’t respond — but it matters that he’s here, that he’s touching her softly as he tells her that all her dreams of finding home, of finding family, have crashed to the ground around them.

It’s too dangerous. There’s nothing more they can do. She can never know.

She doesn’t respond, but it matters that he’s here. It matters that he’s grounding her, that he’s reminding her that no matter how much her dreams are turned to ashes, she’s found something here.

Somewhere she belongs. Maybe somewhere she’s always belonged.

 

8.

It starts with the feel of his hand almost quivering under hers, like he doesn’t remotely know what to do with himself.

And she wants to do _something_ , but she doesn’t know what it’s supposed to be, how to comfort him now when he’s clearly feeling the weight of Rosalind’s death, when he feels _responsible_ in a way that isn’t fair.

_You’re a good person_ , she wants to tell him. She wants him to know because he’s made her feel that so many times, times when she’s wondered if maybe…

But he doesn’t want to hear that right now, he doesn’t have the capacity for that right now. Not when he’s got a mission of his own

She thinks about it, though, about the feel of his hand under hers and about how much more she wants to give him.

 

4.

It starts with falling, maybe that’s true, with fear and terror and betrayal. With near-death.

But what she'll remember later is sitting by the pool and feeling safer than she’s ever felt in her life. What she'll remember is the taste of chocolate and the calm breeze and the soft light that make it seem like maybe the world isn't such an evil place.

Maybe the world has turned irrevocably upside down, but he’s still here. He’s still him.

And he came to get her.

 

7.

It starts with losing everything.

Like every time she thinks there’s nothing else she could lose, she’s proven wrong. Wrong again.

But as they’re picking up the pieces, he puts a cardboard file in her hand, the tangible reality that he’s going to give this to her, he’s going to help her have this, he’s going to help her find a way to make a difference, to be what her mother couldn’t be.

She’s lost everything, but somehow she hasn’t lost him. She hasn’t lost this.

There aren’t words for her gratitude — for him, for the home she didn’t lose somehow. At least not yet.

 

5.

It starts with her index finger tracing along a symbol, and she doesn’t understand it, not at all.

He’s so scared of himself, but she can almost taste it — the way they’re connected, the way everything isn’t lost. It’s like it’s _here_ , somewhere in her brain, if only she could fully understand.

She wants to shake him, to shake him and ask why he would keep this from her for so long, but she can almost _feel_ his fear, and she knows.

She knows him, after all, knows him better than they’ll either one of them admit most days.

And she knows that even if she told him what she can feel — that it will all be okay somehow — he wouldn’t believe her.

 

6.

It starts with his hands on her shoulders, this look in his eye that says he’d rather do anything but leave her here.

There’s so _much_ in his gaze that she doesn’t understand.

But he knows how scared she is — of herself, of hurting people, of losing her home. And he’s _so_ careful, so careful as he holds her against him, so careful as he tells her how she matters, so careful as he tries to make it seem like maybe she hasn’t lost everything, so careful as he tells her that this isn’t permanent.

And it’s a lie. Even if there’s a part of her that wants to believe it, even if she knows that _he_ believes it, she also knows it’s a lie.

But it hurts more than she thought it would, to feel herself losing him. To feel how much he doesn’t want to lose her.

 

1.

It starts when he turns to look at her, this little smirk on his lips.

There’s wind in her hair, her hair in her mouth. There’s her laughter at his _audacity_ because who the fuck has a _flying car_ , like he’s James Bond or something.

He looks at her like he’s just waiting for her to say _yes_ , the way he was just waiting for her to decide to trust him about Mike, the way he was just waiting for her to come to him.

His eyes are blue and playful, even under his aviators, and he looks at her like he’s just been...waiting for her.

And she forgets, for a minute, that this isn’t supposed to be real — he makes her forget, makes it impossible to do anything but trust him.

She kind of likes his style — his polished suits but kind eyes, like he honestly wants to help, and there’s something in his eyes that’s familiar. A look she knows, something she’s seen before but can’t quite say where.

And it’s so hard to believe it, it’s so hard to buy into it, but she starts to right then — she starts to trust him. She starts to wonder if there’s something here for her, something she can have.

 

10.

It starts when he finally opens his eyes and looks at her, where she’s sitting beside his hospital bed.

She’s been sitting here too much, as though her mere presence could matter that much, could make some sort of difference.

_He’s gone now_ , she wants to tell him. Ward’s body and that thing, both are gone forever, but she doesn’t have the words right now.

Instead, she reaches over to touch his right hand because she’s been falling in love with him from almost the first moment she met him but she didn’t know — how could she have known?

(How could she not have known?)

So she touches him softly, half expecting him to pull back.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he twines their fingers together and looks down like he’s surprised.

“Coulson,” she whispers, her voice half-broken from the tears she’s cried over him, “I thought I’d lost you.”

“No,” he answers, voice even more broken than hers. “Daisy.”

He presses a kiss to the back of her hand, one and then two and then more, like he’s just been waiting for her.

And she knows that she’ll still lose him someday, but maybe she gets to have this anyways.


End file.
